


Schrödinger's Kryptonite

by Kerkerian



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Caring Danny, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Five-0hana, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Make that several, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s05e07 Ina Paha (If Perhaps), Slow Romance, Some Fluff, Steve Needs a Hug, injuries, mcdanno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 21:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerkerian/pseuds/Kerkerian
Summary: After the events of S05e07, Steve's in a really bad shape both emotionally and physically. Thank God he's not alone.





	Schrödinger's Kryptonite

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Five-0.

 

 

In hindsight, Danny can't remember how he got from the door to kneeling next to Steve, or what he said. There was panic and a moment of intense nausea as he entered the room and saw Steve lying there, looking dead. His stomach dropped unpleasantly, then there was the rush of blood in his ears and the sensation of his knees wanting to give out, and seconds stretching to minutes. But then Steve jerked, startled, when Danny and Chin arrived at both his sides, and Danny could at least breathe again.

And now he's waiting, they're all waiting, while Steve is being treated in the ER, and Danny can still feel his partner tremble under his touch, can still smell the blood and the sweat and that dank, dark room, and he feels queasy, and sorry, because Steve cried when he understood that his father did not survive Victor Hesse, and it had torn at Danny's heart to see his partner so desperate, so broken.

A hand on his arm startles him: it's Chin, who eyes him with unconcealed sympathy and hands him a paper cup: “Here. It's horrible, but it does the trick.”

Danny's hand is trembling as he takes the offered beverage and nods his thanks. He can't speak, not yet, but that's okay: Chin doesn't expect him to.

Danny doesn't really notice how the coffee tastes, but he sips it nevertheless, counts the seconds between each mouthful. Even though Steve's condition isn't life-threatening, Danny's on tenterhooks, because Steve was so terribly vulnerable when they found him, he was hurting and now he's alone with strangers.

Another hour passes before someone comes to speak to them.

The doctor, who admittedly isn't exactly a stranger but has had dealings with Five-0 before, looks serious as he tells them about the mostly minor injuries of which one partially fractured and several badly bruised ribs are the most painful ones, and the havoc that the cocktail of drugs has been wreaking in Steve's body and mind. And how he's been lucky that the current from the electric shocks didn't flow through the heart muscle, but that he's having palpitations regardless because the current did flow through the chest; that they'll nevertheless have to wait and see if Steve's neurocognitive function, which is affecting speed of mental processing, attention, concentration and memory, remained intact.

That there may be consequences like long-term muscular pain and discomfort, fatigue, headache, problems with peripheral nerve conduction and sensation, inadequate balance and coordination, among other symptoms, but that it's too early to tell yet. Danny's nails dig into the palms of his hands as he listens to all this, and from the looks of it, the others are not faring any better.

The doctor uses the term multiple traumata and Danny absently thinks that it's so typical of Steve not to do anything by halves. Then again, this time it's decidedly not his fault.

 

When Danny is finally allowed in, having reassured the rest of the team that they can go home and he'll give them a call if anything happens, Steve has been patched up and cleaned up and is wearing a hospital gown, but the terror and confusion on his face are still there and his bloodshot eyes are still haunted. Immediately, he fixes his gaze on Danny, his whole body tense: “Hey, Buddy,” Danny says softly, taking the hand with which Steve reached out for him the moment he entered the cubicle, and Steve's grip is firm and a little desperate, though he's trembling; an aftermath of the electric shocks.

“My dad,” is the first thing he says, looking at Danny with wide, pleading eyes. Doctor Cornett has warned him that Steve's still confused, that he won't be able to differentiate between reality and what his troubled mind is telling him as long as the drugs are still in his system. They are being flushed out, but it's slow-going, and Steve's been through a lot. So Danny holds on to Steve's hand, stroking it with his thumb, and tells Steve that it's alright, that he needn't worry, because he's not supposed to upset him. And Steve calms down at that, though he relaxes only fractionally.

Danny leans against the bed to be as close to his partner as possible, wishes he could simply wrap him in his arms and hide him from the world, just as Steve did with him after his brother's death. Instead, he gently cups Steve's jaw with his free hand: “You should try to sleep, Babe,” he murmurs. Steve however seems afraid to close his eyes: “I'm good,” he mutters, sounding so exhausted and so obviously not good that it breaks Danny's heart all over again.

“Okay,” he says, nevertheless, trying to sound confident and calm, “you don't have to.”

“Did you call my dad?”

“I did.” The words come out effortlessly even though Danny hates lying. But these are extraordinary circumstances, after all.

“Is he gonna come?”

“Yeah. He'll be here.” Danny only hopes that Steve will fall asleep soon, will forget about this. He keeps talking to Steve, tells him about a documentary about bees he's watched recently, because that's the only thing he can come up with, and at one point, Steve finally closes his eyes, though it takes a while until his vice-like grip on Danny's hand slackens. Danny sags, supporting himself on the bed railing and rubbing his free hand over his eyes: this is hard, and he isn't sure he's doing it right.

Steve startles from his doze not even an hour later; his eyes are glassy and he's not entirely lucid. It takes Danny a while to calm him down this time, though Steve doesn't once ask for his dad; he doesn't speak at all, only breathes heavily through his nose and keeps his gaze on Danny, who does his best to talk him out of his obvious panic. The doctor said they could only mildly sedate him because of the multitude of drugs already in his system and the ones they are administering additionally, and it doesn't really seem to work.

The night carries on like this, Steve finally dozing off for a while but never for long. In the small hours, he begins to cough, and his face contorts with pain each time he does so. The night nurse, who comes in frequently to check on him, consults with the surgeon on duty, who examines Steve and thinks it's pleuritis, since Steve's also developed a slight fever and admits to chest pain which have nothing to do with the burns he sustained. Pleuritis, Danny learns, is an inflammation of the membranes that surround the lungs and line the chest cavity and is most probably an aftereffect of the waterboarding.

His own hands are trembling while he waits for the nurse to adjust Steve's medication; he knows that Steve's been trained to endure waterboarding and other methods of torture, but in addition to whichever twisted mind games Wo Fat has had his partner subjected to, he isn't sure that Steve will walk away from this one so easily.

The nurse, Melanie, now turns to Danny: “You look pale, if I may say so,” she says softly. “I can stay with him for a few minutes, if you want to go and get some coffee or some fresh air?”

Her unexpected kindness is almost too much for Danny. This isn't about him, and he doesn't care if he looks pale, but he manages a smile as he thanks her and tells her he's fine; there's no way he's leaving Steve now. When Melanie has left, Danny resumes his former position by the bed, and Steve, though his eyes are on half-mast by now, immediately reaches for him again. Danny just hopes that he knows it's him and not his dad: “It's okay, I'm here. Go to sleep, Babe,” he says, and Steve actually closes his eyes at that. He's worn out by now, and the fever and the medication seem to finally wrestle him under. For the next three blessed hours, Steve sleeps, Danny steadfastly keeping vigil at his side.

 

Lou, Chin and Kono arrived shortly after seven, bringing some real coffee, Malasadas and a clean shirt, and Kono and Chin manage to coax Danny away from Steve long enough for him to freshen up, eat and drink something while Lou stays with Steve, who's still fast sleep.

“You sleep at all?” Kono asks her other boss with a concerned look once he told her about the night.

Danny shakes his head: “He's such a mess right now,” he only says in a low voice.

 

When Steve wakes up in the early morning, the tremors, the fever and the cough are still there, but he's less agitated to the point of seeming strangely subdued. He doesn't ask for his dad anymore but he doesn't acknowledge Danny's presence either; he just keeps his eyes closed, hunched in on himself as much as he can, and withdraws from his surroundings. He pulled his hand back as well, so now Danny just stands by his bed and watches him, because Steve ignores it when he talks to him, and this is so much worse than before.

The only ones who get a reaction are the doctor and the nurses; Steve glares at them and answers their questions curtly, but that's all.

So Doctor Cornett takes Danny aside: “These reactions were to be expected,” he says. “Due to the chemicals which are still in his system, it is more difficult to manage the stress that the Commander's experiencing. It's a very mild form of Acute Stress Reaction.”

“Yeah, I've heard of it,” Danny replies. “It can develop into PTSD, right?”

“That's correct when it's left untreated,” Doctor Cornett confirms. “The drugs probably boosted it.”

“So what can we do about it?”

“First and foremost, the patient needs reassurance, to feel safe. Apart from that there's specific medication, and I usually prescribe cognitive behavioral therapy. Relaxation is another significant factor, and certain stress reduction programs appear to be very effective for stress management.”

At that, Danny scratches his head: “Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

When Doctor Cornett raises one eyebrow questioningly, Danny sighs: “The guy lives on adrenaline. His favourite hobbies are blowing things up and jumping from rooftops and such like.”

Doctor Cornett glances at his patient: “He'll have to refrain from that for a while, I'm afraid,” he says. “Considering the hallucinogens and physical interrogation he's been subjected to, he won't be cleared for duty so soon anyway.”

Danny purses his lips as he considers this, his heart heavy: Steve's life revolves around his job; it'll be even more difficult for him if he can't work.

Doctor Cornett regards him sympathetically: “From what I've seen, it's still really only mildly, thanks to your partner's former military career,” he says. “It'd probably be much worse if it wasn't for his training.”

Danny nods: “Good,” he just says, because to him, it looks bad enough.

Sorrow and exhaustion are weighing heavily on him once the doctor has left, so he sits down in the chair on the other side of the bed, and it doesn't take him longer than two minutes to fall asleep.

 

When he wakes up two hours later with a mean crick in his neck, Steve is awake; he's turned on his side and is watching him from tired eyes. Danny sits up and rubs his hand over his face: “Hey,” he says, blinking to clear the grit away. “How are you feeling?”

Steve regards him silently for a moment: “I thought my dad was still alive,” he replies, his voice flat. “You got there in time to save him, and he survived.”

Danny's on his feet instantly, moving over to the bed: “I'm so sorry, Buddy,” he says softly.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut when they're suddenly swimming, and he turns onto his back, turns his face away from his partner, who feels helpless.

This kind of emotional rollercoaster goes on for two days. Danny stays, because sometimes Steve wants him, needs to have him close, and Danny can't afford not to be there on those occasions. He has long since stopped asking himself when he has become the one person Steve is so dependent on, especially considering that not long ago, he wanted to marry Catherine. But since then, he and Steve undeniably have become closer, and yes, there is a lot of bodily contact going on. After Marco Reyes, their bond seems to have increased even more, after all. During that time, he depended on Steve as much as Steve does on him now. And yes, he is enjoying it as much as he thinks Steve is. And if he is honest with himself, he'd want Steve to be the person at his side if their roles were reversed, for a number of reasons. So yeah, he's not really got a reason to be surprised. Admittedly, he even needs this as much as Steve does.

Their ohana comes by frequently, individually or together, and Danny does take the time to shower and shave once or twice, but apart from that, he stays.

They have meanwhile processed the old factory building in which they found Steve, and the evidence clearly suggests that the psychological torture was as bad as the physical one. It's for a reason that Lou keeps one heavy hand on Danny's shoulder as he tells him this, and one look at Danny's face is enough to confirm once more what he already knows: the man is in love with Steve, and he'd kill for him, and Wo Fat can be glad that he's already dead.

 

And Steve, while he's more or less lucid, wants to know about Wo Fat, wants to know if he's really dead, if he didn't only imagine seeing him with a bullet in his head. He doesn't recall their last showdown, apparently, for which Danny is still grateful, even if it means that he's got to explain to his partner what has happened.

“You okay?” Steve asks unexpectedly, tensing up, and Danny is taken aback: “Yeah, I'm okay. I wasn't there.”

“He didn't get his hands on you?”

It pains Danny to hear the apprehension in Steve's voice: “No, he didn't.”

Steve's expression is relieved as he sags back into the pillows. “Good,” he mutters, but then his face suddenly contorts: “He shouldn't have gotten my dad either. I should've been there...”

Danny moves closer to the bed, strokes Steve's hair with his free hand, his face, cups his neck: “Hey,” he says gently. “Look at me, Steve. Babe, look at me.”

And Steve does, blinking because of his wet eyes.

“It wasn't your fault,” Danny says, his voice soft but firm. It's what Steve told him after Matt's death, and back then, he needed to hear it even if he wasn't ready to believe it yet. And now it's the only thing he can think of which he can give Steve, so he tells him the same, tells him that he couldn't have done anything, that he isn't to blame for what happened to his father. And Steve gradually calms down, but his eyes still look haunted. Have been for too long now.

“Can I get you anything?” Danny asks him in order to distract him. “There's a place nearby which makes those freakily healthy smoothies you're so fond of.”

But Steve only shakes his head and makes to turn onto his side again, his hand loosening its grip around Danny's.

“Okay,” Danny murmurs, drooping his head for a moment because he's so tired and he can't bear to see Steve hurting like this. He jumps when he feels a hand on his back: it's Lou, whom he didn't hear coming in. He regards Danny with the same look of concern everyone seems to have reserved for him these days, but he doesn't say anything; instead, he addresses Steve: “Hey, Buddy, how're you doing?”

Steve just blinks and closes his eyes. Lou heaves a sigh, and it's ridiculous how a grown man can look like a lost puppy, but Grover still manages to pull it off.

“Give it time,” Danny murmurs, and Lou just puts his arm around Danny's shoulders and stays with them for a while. It is so ridiculously reassuring that Danny is tempted to lean his head against him and close his eyes.

 

Later, Danny calls Rachel and explains to her why he can't take Grace this weekend. She is very understanding about the whole matter and rather concerned about Steve, and Danny is grateful for that because things kind of deteriorated a little between them after the whole baby debacle. He briefly talks to Gracie as well, ending the call rather wistfully. It seems that he keeps having to decide between Steve and his daughter, which is something he hates and shouldn't ever be forced to do. But in this case, the decision was easy. He can't leave Steve alone like this, period. Grace understood when he told her that Steve was injured and needed him, just as she always does. For a moment, he allows his pride about his amazing kid to wash over him, then he pockets his phone and returns to Steve's room.

Steve's been dozing, but he turns his head towards Danny, blinking drowsily, and reaches for him. It's with relief that Danny takes his hand; anything's better than the eerie detachment from earlier. The tremors have mostly abated in the meantime as well, which Danny takes as a good sign.

“Hey, Babe,” he says quietly. “Gracie says hello.”

“She calmed down about the rabbit?”

“The rabbit?”

Steve blinks, obviously concentrating: “Ah no, that's... that's just a dream. Forget it...” He looks disconcerted now. “Just a dream...”

“It's okay, Babe,” Danny soothes him. “You're doing good.” He's glad that at least Steve can differentiate between dreams and reality by now.

 

On the following morning, Steve's eyes are surprisingly clear for the first time since they found him, and the fever has lessened. He slept through the night, which meant Danny was able to nap in the chair for a few hours. His back aches fiercely, but he doesn't heed it because Steve finally seems to be doing better.

Doctor Cornett confirms this: “Your blood is looking good, Commander,” he says, “the drugs have successfully been flushed out.”

“Can I go home?” Steve wants to know, even though his voice is still pathetically brittle.

“Not yet, I'm afraid,” the doctor replies. “We'll have to monitor you for a while longer.”

“How long?”

“At least until the pleuritis has abated. It's looking good now that the fever's almost gone and we can start a more aggressive treatment.”

Steve doesn't look to happy about the prospect of staying here and having more drugs pumped into him, but he nods his thanks to the doctor and lies back.

“It won't be that long now,” Danny says to console him. “You're looking much better already.”

Steve regards him, and for the first time, his gaze is that of the old Steve, fond if rather serious: “But you look terrible, Danno.” His voice is far from its usual strength.

“That a compliment?” Danny asks feebly because he doesn't have the energy for an argument right now, and he doesn't want Steve to feel bad either. He doesn't know how quickly his partner's mood can change again, after all.

“It's an 'I appreciate what you're doing, but I don't want you to run yourself into the ground on my behalf'.” Steve coughs.

 _You should have_ seen _yourself,_ Danny thinks. _Struck down. Lifeless_. Aloud, he says: “I'm not. I just...” He falls silent again. How can he explain to Steve what the past few days did to him, what a shock it was to find his partner like that? He just doesn't have words for this. So he looks down at his feet: “I'm not,” he repeats, softly.

Steve regards him: “I know you, Danno. I can see that your back hurts from sleeping in that chair,” he says. “And you've got rings underneath your eyes.”

Danny shrugs: “So? We've been through worse.”

“Says the guy who calls _me_ stubborn,” Steve replies. Slowly, he lifts his arm and takes Danny's hand in his: “I'll be fine, Danny. I love you, but if you don't go home and sleep, I'll call reinforcements.”

Danny looks at their joined hands and feels his eyes sting. “Okay,” he mutters. “Okay. If you're sure...”

“I am.” Steve squeezes his hand.

“Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

 

Everything is strangely off kilter as Danny walks out of the hospital and to his car. He hasn't been home in four days, and it's not where he wants to be. But as soon as he crawls into his bed, he's glad that Steve made him go. He's constantly been bracing himself for whichever came next ever since they found Steve, has barely had any breaks; he's just so tired.

It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep.

 

Steve feels unsettled once Danny's gone. His constant presence brought with it a sense of safety; the drug-induced dreams are coming back to Steve with more clarity now and he wonders how he didn't notice it wasn't real, with Danny being so different. Danny'd never shoot a suspect just to get him to talk. Danny'd never wear an Aloha shirt. Danny... isn't married to Rachel to anymore.

Even after the fact, Steve is jealous about that, irrational as it is. But he's also weighed down with fresh grief, and he doesn't feel up to analyzing anything. The past few days have been a blur, but Danny's been there all the time. Whenever he woke up, trembling and upset, Danny kept him from panicking just by being there. His absence almost feels like another loss. And that's all he needs to know for now.

 

When Steve is finally discharged, Danny and Lou take him home. Which Danny is glad about, since Steve's still having trouble with motor function at times, and that affects his gait as well: he is staggering about like a newborn giraffe. Apart from that, there is altogether too much lingering evidence of the electric shocks in Danny's opinion, such as Steve getting dizzy when he's upright for too long, even though he denies it, or the occasional muscle twitch, therefore he is determined not to let his partner out of his sight for the foreseeable future. Especially since Steve is stubborn enough to declare himself fully healed, even though Lou had to help him up the stairs.

Danny's been in the house on the previous evening to put fresh sheets on the bed and make sure everything was ready; he's brought groceries too.

When he comes in with Steve's duffle bag, Steve sits on his bed with an almost belligerent expression.

“... be hearing about it if you give my boy Danny here a hard time.” Grover is just saying. “There's a reason why the good doctor said he's only letting you go if you strictly adhere to his instructions and have got someone to care for you, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” Steve says, his nostrils flaring. “You done?”

“Am I done? I haven't even started yet!”

Danny puts the duffle bag down: “Everything okay here?”

“Peachy,” Steve replies, sullenly, at which Grover grins: “I think he's got my meaning. You gonna be okay for now?”

“Yeah,” Danny gives him a smile. “We're all set, I think.”

“Right. I'll head out then.” Grover gives Steve a gentle pat on the shoulder: “See you later, McGarrett.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve mutters, but his frustration seems to have abated somewhat. Maybe he's just tired.

Lou winks at Danny, then leaves the room.

“I don't need a babysitter,” Steve says, nevertheless.

“I beg to differ.”

“I want to go swimming.”

“You can't. Doctor's orders.”

Steve huffs. He hates being a patient, but his body unfortunately is telling him that he doesn't have a choice for now; apart from the recurring dizziness, the ever present pain from his ribs which the medication can only dull to a certain point and a deep, lingering ache in his muscles, he is still tremendously tired.

 

Danny picks up the duffle bag again in order to unpack it, and Steve looks around: if he's honest with himself, he's touched by the effort his friends are making, that Danny is putting everything else on hold just for him; Steve will have to get creative about paid leave days. For now, everything's settled because Danny went and talked to the governor, told him what transpired and made sure to emphasize that it was the same man that killed Governor Jameson who's put Five-0 mostly on hold for the time being. He also arranged for the Marquis to be kept at the impound lot, because he didn't think his partner could deal with it presently, and Steve's grateful for that.

Apart from that, Danny's been home for a few times ever since Steve's condition was improving, but he still spent the majority of his time in the hospital, and it shows. He looks pale and worn and maybe a little thinner than before: he looks like he needs a break.

“You don't have to stay, you know?” he says softly, watching as Danny puts his unused underwear back into the drawer as though it's the most normal thing in the world.

Danny pauses, visibly tensing up but not turning around to Steve: “Yes, I do,” he says quietly in a tone that brooks no argument.

“Okay,” Steve says lightly. “It's not that I don't want you here, I just thought...” He breaks off, because Danny doesn't move, doesn't even seem to breathe, and Steve somehow gets the impression that he's hurt and that whatever he says next is only going to make it worse.

“I'm not gonna make a mess or turn on the TV at night,” Danny says, finally turning to look at Steve. “I just want to make sure that you'll be okay.”

Steve's heart contracts at that: “I didn't want to get rid of you,” he clarifies. “I don't, on the contrary! I just thought you could use some rest. You've been looking after me for a long time now, Danno.”

Danny expression softens: “You did the same for me.” After he shot Marco Reyes and they brought back Matty's remains from Colombia, Steve was an absolutely rock for him.

Steve regards him, then pats the mattress next to him: “Come here, will you?”

Slowly, Danny makes his way over to him and sits down. Steve puts his arms around him and pulls him close; Danny doesn't resist, but he still seems tense. “Thank you for everything,” Steve murmurs. “Without you... I wouldn't have made it.”

He can feel Danny shudder: “Don't say that,” he breathes, finally bringing up his own arms around Steve, carefully: “Never say something like that again, Steve.”

“It's true.”

“Still. I can't handle hearing that, okay?”

“Danno...” Steve burrows his face into Danny's neck, and they scoot even closer together, tightening their embrace despite their slightly twisted positions, not letting go of one another for an unaccounted amount of time.

 

When they eventually do let go, Danny looks at Steve: “I'm so sorry,” he says softly. “For everything that bastard did to you.”

Steve nods, searching for Danny's hand and squeezing it; there is nothing more to say.

“I'll go and get you your painkillers now,” Danny then says, getting to his feet. “Anything else you'd like? Tea? Some juice?”

“No, thank you,” Steve toes off his sneakers. “I'll just lie down for a bit.”

When Danny raises his eyebrows at that, he adds: “Since I'm not allowed to go swimming.”

Shaking his head, Danny leaves the room.

Steve looks rather drowsy when Danny comes back in a little while later. He takes the offered pills and downs them with some water, then Danny takes the glass from him and puts it on the nightstand. Steve catches his wrist: “Stay with me?” he asks, and Danny's bruised heart is making the decision for him before he can stop himself from nodding. He toes off his shoes as Steve is already pulling at his sleeve, then he crawls onto the bed until he's close to Steve, heart beating in his throat as he lies down next to him. Steve regards him with a fond expression: “Danno,” he says softly. “I'm glad you're here.”

“Yeah?”

Steve turns towards him a little more: “Never feels right without you,” he mutters.

The corners of Danny's mouth quirk upwards: “You're not tired of me by now?”

“No, never,” Steve repeats, raising his hand and cupping Danny's jaw, gently and careful, and Danny almost closes his eyes for a moment. The butterflies are having a party.

They falls asleep with Steve's hand on Danny's chest.

 

Danny wakes up some time in the afternoon; for a moment, he is confused, but even as he opens his eyes, he knows where he is, and why. Steve is lying next to him, watching him with tired eyes which light up as Danny looks at him now.

“Couldn't sleep?” Danny asks him, his voice gravelly.

A haunted look flits over Steve's face: a nightmare, then.

Unthinkingly, Danny reaches for Steve's hand, takes it in his just as he did all these past days. “You should've woken me, Babe,” he says softly.

Steve regards him: “You looked so exhausted while you were sleeping,” he replies.

“I can sleep later.” Danny's eyes wander over Steve's face, once more very aware of the butterflies. But Steve's always been touching him in a way that some people might say is crossing boundaries, and they are both comfortable with it. So maybe he shouldn't read too much into it, especially now that Steve needs more than his usual amount of cuddling, apparently.

“You're always doing this,” Steve says. “Putting others first. Putting me first. You don't have to, you know?”

Danny shrugs: “It's how I was raised.”

“You mom says you've always been like that.” Steve gives him a small smile. “Even as a little boy.”

“My mom? When did you talk to my mom?”

“While she was here for the first time.”

“Why did you talk to my mom about me?”

Steve shrugs: “It came up.”

“Huh.” Danny regards him: “She never said anything. I didn't know you two were in cahoots with each other.”

“ _Cahoots_? What does that even mean?”

“You know perfectly well what it means.”

“No, I don't. And I'm not in anything with Clara, okay? We both just happen to really like you.”

Danny huffs, but inwardly, his confusion rises. So he sits up, because he needs to pee anyway: “Whatever. I'm starving, Babe, I'm gonna find something to eat. Any specific wishes?”

“A dictionary,” Steve says with a perfectly straight face.

Half an hour later, Danny brings up a tray with soup, sandwiches and fruit: “Chin made the soup, but he swore on his bike, Kono and his badge that it's not as hot as last time.” Which will forever go down in history as 'the day on which Chin Ho Kelly inadvertently made the rest of Five-0 cry'.

Grinning, Steve, who admittedly is rather hungry by now, holds his nose over his bowl: “Smells delicious,” he said. “It's carrot with ginger and coconut,” Danny replies.

The soup is just the right amount of hot this time, or maybe Steve simply doesn't mind after all the bland hospital food. Anyway, it's utterly delicious, and they eat mostly in silence.

“Chin's the best,” Danny says contentedly once he's done with the soup.

Steve looks at him with a curious expression: “Yeah,” he then agrees. “I could get used to this.”

 

Later, once he's cleared away the dishes, Danny sits down on the edge of the mattress with a piece of paper: “I'm now going to read to you the list of things you're either not allowed or advised to do until your next appointment.” Steve's face immediately clouds over, therefore Danny quickly adds “Doctor's orders.”

Steve only rolls his eyes at that.

“Plenty of rest. No exertion whatsoever, which includes the following,” Danny reads, “swimming, working out, surfing or other sports. Which also includes tackling people, by the way. Furthermore, no driving or flying any vehicles. No alcohol. No sneaky attempts to escape from your partner's supervision. No lecturing your partner about a healthy lifestyle-”

“That's not a doctor's order,” Steve interrupts him, trying to snatch the note from his partner.

Danny holds it out of his reach:“Yes, it is,” he says, unsuccessfully trying to keep a straight face. “As is the next one: no singing in the shower.”

Steve snorts with laughter until his ribs hurt too much by that: “I'll have you know that I've got a lovely singing voice!”

“That's debatable,” Danny replies with a sweet smile.

“Deba- let me show you right now. _I'm singing in the rain_ -”

“That's what I meant,” Danny shouts, laughing and holding up his hands: “Stop, stop! You're butchering it!”

Steve interrupts himself: “Okay, then you do it.”

“I'm not gonna sing right now.”

“Please, if you think I can't do it, I wanna hear you doing it!”

“Oh boy.”

“Come on, Danno!”

“ _Alright_ , alright.” Danny clears his throat. Steve is in such a good mood right now, he doesn't want to spoil the moment.

 

Since no one seems to have heard her knocking, Kono lets herself into the house with the spare key Danny's given her for emergencies, and pauses even before she's closed the door: there's singing upstairs, and it definitely sounds like her boss- and her other boss. Perplexed, she closes the door as quietly as she can: it's 'Singing in the Rain'. Once the song has ended (more or less on the same note), there's an unexpected silence, but where she expects bickering, there's some quiet laughter. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, she opens the door again and closes it audibly.

A moment later, Danny appears on the upper landing: “Hi, Kono.” He looks a little pink around the ears.

Kono just grins at him broadly: “Sounds like Steve is doing well.”

Danny shrugs as he comes down the stairs: “He slept some and we just had Chin's amazing soup.”

“I hope he went easy on the chili this time?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. So I've brought you your laptop and the contents of your desk tray, as requested.”

“Thank you very much, Kono, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” She's still grinning.

Danny purses his lips: “So, wanna say hello to the patient?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on up, then, I'll join you in a minute.”

Kono nods and walks towards the stairs, unable to hide her amusement.

Steve is sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard: he's still pale and he's holding his ribs; the singing probably wasn't such a good idea right now. But his eyes are bright, and he seems relaxed: “Kono, hey!”

“Howzit, Boss-man?” She bends down to kiss him on the cheek. “Glad to be home?”

“Yeah,” he smiles a little. “Though Nurse Williams is very strict.”

Kono sits down on the bed: “For a good reason, probably.”

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. He really seems to be doing much better than before, and Kono is almost ridiculously glad about it. Seeing Steve so broken and not like himself was scary, and it broke her own heart to see him cry when he realized that his father was dead. She loves him too much to bear seeing him hurt, so she's happy that he's improving.

She hands him a bag: “I've brought you some entertainment.”

“Thanks!” He reaches into the bag and produces a few books and some DVDs: “Great! That will hopefully tide me over until I'm allowed to live normally again.”

Kono laughs: “Come on, it could be worse. You can at least go down to the beach, right?”

“Yeah.” But Steve is actually still seeing those home movies in his mind, of his dad, Mary and himself at the beach; he doesn't know if he'll go down there any time soon as long as he can't just dive into the sea and swim until his brain's on autopilot and he doesn't have to think anymore. Or remember.

 

On the following morning, Steve sleeps late, which is unusual but probably due to the medication, and Danny manages not to worry about it too much; once Steve's up, his eyes are clear, and he seems lucid.

After breakfast, he insists on taking a shower: “I'm not an invalid, Danno.”

“I agree. All I said was 'be careful'.”

“I'm always careful.”

“You're joking, right?”

Steve ignores him and slowly makes his way into the bathroom. Danny waits outside, just in case, but Steve manages not to fall. In fact, he feels well rested and much more in command of his body today. Therefore, he wants to get up once he's dressed.

“I promise I'm not going to run,” he says when Danny immediately manages to look alarmed. “I only want to sit outside on the lanai for a change.”

“Okay.” Danny takes the breakfast tray: “I'll take this downstairs, then I'll come and help you. Please don't try to brave the stairs without me.”

“ _Brave_? It's not the Hillary Step, Danno!”

“It's still pretty steep if you're falling down headfirst because you slipped.”

“I'm not gonna slip.”

“Not discussing it further.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Danny huffs and disappears with the tray.

Secretly, Steve is less annoyed and more touched by his partner's concern, but it's also a tad ridiculous, in his opinion, to be walking down the stairs with Danny holding on to his good arm like a vice.

“You know that this wouldn't stop me from falling if I slipped, right? If anything, we'd both fall. And you'd probably end up on top of me, making matters worse.”

For some reason, Danny looks flustered at that: “Shut up, would you?” he all but snaps.

Taken aback, Steve shakes his head: “What's with you, Danno?”

Danny groans: “Nothing. Sorry. Just tired.” That's not even a lie: he was lying awake for what seemed like most of the night. Not because of the ocean, which he actually doesn't mind, but his thoughts were reeling, and he couldn't get comfortable on the couch even though he was still tired from the previous days. But now that Steve's back home, Marco Reyes and Matty apparently are back to haunt him, in addition to everything else.

“Didn't you sleep well?”

“No, I didn't.”

Steve stops to look at him: “Why?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Danny says, letting go of him because they've reached the bottom landing.

“Is it the couch?” Steve insists. “You can always sleep in my old room, you know that.”

“It's not the couch. I like your couch. I simply couldn't sleep, it happens. No biggie.”

Steve regards him for a while longer, but doesn't try to press matters further. “Okay,” he just says.

 

He settles into one of the deckchairs on the lanai and closes his eyes, just listening to the surf and the birds in the trees. A while later, Danny comes out and brings him some iced tea and a bowl of feijoa and strawberries. Steve has just dozed off, therefore Danny is about to back away quietly when Steve jerks awake with an inarticulate shout, his heart racing. He blinks at Danny, momentarily confused: wasn't he back in that white room just now? But no, of course not, he's at home. With Danny, who crouches down next to him with a concerned expression: “You okay, Babe?”

“Yeah, I'm...” Steve mutters. “I'm okay.” His eyes are wide, though, and he looks spooked.

Wordlessly, Danny reaches for his hand; it has always helped in the hospital, after all. And Steve grips the lifeline his partner provides and holds on tightly for a few minutes until he's calmed down. His ribs hurt because of the sudden and rather violent movement when he came awake, therefore he tries to breathe as evenly as he can.

When his grip finally slackens, Danny strokes over the skin of his hand with his thumb: “You need anything else?”

“Stay with me for a moment?” Steve asks, his voice brittle, and he doesn't let go of Danny.

“'Course, Babe,” Danny replies. “And I'll have you know that I _could_ have stopped you from falling, even if I'm not a SEAL.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Steve asks, grateful for the distraction.

“Just that you don't need a special kind of training to keep your loved ones out of harm's way.”

The moment he's said it, Danny blushes. “And that just sounded like a Hallmark card,” he mutters.

Steve can't but smile: “I love you too, Danno.”

“Yeah,” Danny says softly. “I know.”

 

That evening, they watch a movie on Steve's laptop together. After a lengthy argument about which movie, that is, because Danny doesn't want to watch 'Top Gun' _again_ , and Kono's brought several DVDs, after all. In the end, they decide on 'Planet 51', which is good because it's light fare and doesn't have any parental issues whatsoever. And it's really funny too, though Steve has to be careful not to laugh too hard because of his ribs.

The fact that he's voluntarily returned to his bed in the afternoon just goes to show that he isn't quite up to too much yet, but Danny doesn't comment on it: so far, Steve has been doing okay, all things considered. Danny's brought him another large pillow he can lean against, which makes the ribs bearable.

He's rather drowsy once the movie ended, therefore Danny says goodnight and heads downstairs. He is facing another sleepless night on the couch, but he doesn't want to turn on the TV in case Steve needs him and he doesn't hear it. So he lies down, closes his eyes and concentrates on the surf, trying to let himself be lulled into sleep by it.

The next thing he knows is an annoying buzzing sound, accompanied by music, and it takes the first few beats of 'Macho Man' until he realizes that it's his phone that's ringing. Steve.

He picks it up with his eyes still almost closed: “Steve?”

All he can hear is Steve's harsh breathing.

“I'll be with you in a sec,” he says, getting to his feet. At least Steve didn't come downstairs by himself. He's sitting up in bed when Danny enters the room, soaked with sweat, panting and wild-eyed. At least he's managed to turn on a light and call Danny, which is good because it means he knows where he is and that he's not alone. But he's shaking and reaching for Danny, who crouches down on the mattress next to him, cradling his hand against his chest: “Hey, hey, Babe. Bad dream?”

“Danno,” he stammers, “sorry for waking you-”

“That's all right. I'm glad you did.”

“He was here.”

“Who?”

“Wo Fat. He was standing there, in the corner, and I couldn't kill him because he was already dead.”

Steve breathes harshly through his nose, swallowing, and Danny can feel an additional tremor run through him. So he scoots closer to Steve until he can pull him into his arms: “It was just a dream, Babe,” he says softly, rocking Steve ever so slightly without realizing that he's doing it. “It wasn't real. Wo Fat is dead, you shot him. We made sure of it, remember?”

Steve takes a shuddering breath, then he nods: “Yeah.”

“That's good.”

Doctor Cornett said that Steve was going to revisit these things in therapy; probably not the worst idea.

Danny keeps his arms firmly around his partner until Steve's trembling lessens, murmuring soothing nonsense until he's calm.

“Come on,” he then says, gently, “let's get you into something dry.”

He pulls Steve off the bed and to his feet, steers him into the bathroom where he sits him down on the closed toilet lid, helps him out of his shirt and hands him a washcloth so that he can freshen up: “I'll go and put a new sheet on the bed.”

“You don't have to-”

“Don't worry about it.”

Danny quickly pulls the sweat soaked sheet off the mattress and throws it into the hamper, then puts on a fresh one; he also exchanges the covers before he brings Steve a fresh shirt and helps him into it. Steve catches his hands and holds on to him once they're done: “Danno,” he says, looking up at Danny groggily and with too much distress. “I'm... this isn't... I've never...” He breaks off.

“I know this isn't you,” Danny says softly. “He thoroughly messed with you, Babe. It's not your fault. And it's nothing to be ashamed of.”

Gently, he pulls Steve to his feet. Once he's back in bed, Danny sits down on the edge, keeping the lamp on the nightstand on, and Steve is relieved that he doesn't have to ask him to do so. But then, Danny has kids, and this probably isn't the first time he's sitting up with someone at night because they were scared. Only Steve is an adult, and he's never been frightened by his nightmares. Heartbroken, annoyed, embarrassed, yes, but never as freaked out as he is now. But Danny is so effortlessly calm about it that Steve only feels mildly ashamed.

He closes his eyes, but now the memories are there.

“He called me 'brother',” he mutters, opening his eyes again and staring ahead unseeingly.

“Why?” Danny asks softly.

So Steve tells him about his mother and Wo Fat.

“And she didn't bother to tell you?” There's barely suppressed anger in Danny's voice now, and Steve thinks that he's right: if he had known, he'd have had an advantage. And this is the crux, isn't it? The fact that he feels betrayed by his mom once more. He felt like this after he learned about her faked death, and now this. How could she not tell him? Did she really consider Wo Fat someone worth protecting, more so than her own son? Or did she think he'd be jealous? He closes his eyes, can't stop the hot tears however.

A moment later, the mattress shakes, and then Danny is there, gathers him in his arms once more, and Steve just can't keep pretending that he's fine any longer. He cries because of his mom and his dad, Mary and himself, because of everything they had and everything they've lost until he doesn't have any more tears to shed.

All the time, Danny holds him, ever so gently rocking him, his thumb stroking his neck. He murmurs reassurances into Steve's ear, keeps up a steady flow of soft words until Steve just lies in the shelter of his arms, depleted and empty. He doesn't make any attempt to disentangle himself, and Danny doesn't want to let go, so they stay like that until it becomes slightly uncomfortable. So Danny gently nudges Steve until they're both lying down, never letting go of one another. In fact, Steve only wraps his arms around Danny more tightly, hiccuping occasionally, and Danny just reinforces his own grip around his partner as much as he dares, not wanting to aggravate his injuries. They are asleep within minutes.

 

Steve wakes up with a dry mouth and no immediate recollection of the what and how. But something's different, and once his sleep-addled brain is ready to report, it all comes back to him while he simultaneously takes stock of the situation: the unfamilar but not unpleasant weight on his hip is Danny's arm, and his own nose is currently burrowed into Danny's t-shirt, his head tucked under Danny's chin. Their legs are entangled, and his hand has wandered under his partner's t-shirt and is resting against his stomach. Steve should be embarrassed, probably, find this awkward, but if anything, he feels calm. Calm and... happy? Well, and now confused as well. But Danny feels so good, and his scent is heavenly and something Steve has come to associate with home and safety, and as Steve regards his face now, he can't but think that it admittedly is a sweet sight. Lovely Danny. He's always been honest with Steve; he wouldn't be doing this if his heart wasn't in it. His huge, tender little heart.

Very cautiously, Steve strokes the velvety skin just above Danny's navel with the back of his fingers; a pleasant shudder runs down his back. Danny hums in his sleep, and Steve pauses. With no small amount of regret, he pulls his hand back, but he can't have Danny waking up like this. Flummoxed, he closes his eyes again, though his thoughts are reeling. He is aware that mere friends don't cuddle like this, not even after a nightmare. But he always used to cuddle Danny, quite a lot even, and it didn't mean anything. Or maybe Steve didn't stop to think about what it might mean. He frowns into Danny's shirt: maybe he hasn't been paying attention.

 

Since Steve is a little fidgety now, it doesn't take long for Danny to wake up as well. He makes endearing little snuffling sounds as he does, and Steve listens raptly.

“Morning,” Danny eventually mumbles; his voice is rough and his tone isn't in the least indicating how much is heart is aching because he's yearning for this. But this is most definitely not the right time anyway, after the night they had.

“How'd you know I'm awake?” Steve asks.

“Can feel you blinking.”

Oh.

“You okay?” Danny then wants to know, and Steve wants to confirm and deny this at the same time, but settles for a meek “Yes” instead. With much regret, he disentangles himself from Danny to look at him: “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I'm sorry about last night.”

Danny frowns: “Stop apologizing, Babe,” he replies, rubbing one hand over his eyes. “We're family, right?”

“Right,” Steve echoes, but his heart sinks.

 

Later that morning, which is a Saturday, Danny gets a call from Rachel: “Grace would like to visit 'Uncle Steve',” she says. “So I promised her I'd call you and see how he's doing.”

Touched, Danny glances over at his partner, who is out on the lanai again: “He's doing okay, considering. Still a bit tottery. I'll ask him if he's up for a visit and call you back, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Steve is pleased that Gracie wants to see him, but he immediately looks worried: “What are we going to tell her?”

Danny studies him: “The truth,” he says. “She's twelve, she watches the news. She knows what kind of job we're doing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. She doesn't need to know to the details, but I don't think we should lie to her.” From the way his shoulders hunch at that, Steve knows he's thinking of Marco Reyes and all the other things they haven't told her. He knows that this is weighing on Danny, but he respects his decision not to tell Grace about that.

“Okay,” he therefore says. “Danno?”

“Yeah?”

“You still think about that, don't you.” He doesn't need to name it.

Hesitantly, Danny nods: “Yeah. But not last night.”

With that cryptic remark, he returns to the kitchen to call Rachel. It's true that he hasn't slept this good in a long time, and it was utterly wonderful to wake up with Steve like that. He still feels all warm inside, like he's glowing.

 

“Uncle Steve,” Grace says, concern and affection audible in her tone as she walks out on the lanai an hour later. He bends down and hugs him, careful not to hurt him, and he kisses her on the cheek: “Hey, Sweetie. Nice of you to come visit.”

She sits down on the chair next to him and looks him over: “I was worried.”

“I think you get that from your dad,” Steve replies, but he's obviously touched.

Grace reaches into her satchel: “I've brought you this.” She hands him a homemade Get Well-card and a bag of Hershey's kisses.

“Aw, thank you, Gracie, that's lovely.” He squeezes her hand. “They are my favourite.”

“Mine as well.” She smiles, and Danny can't but feel proud of his amazing daughter.

Who now regards his partner with a more serious expression: “So what happened?”

Steve glances at Danny, who sits down next to Grace: “I had an encounter with someone. An old enemy, you could say.”

Her eyes widen, but she keeps silent.

“He kidnapped me because he wanted information,” Steve continues. “But your dad and Five-0 got me out in time.”

Grace nods: “What did he do?”

“He roughed me up a little,” Steve says; it's what he and Danny have agreed on. “But I'm okay.”

Sensing that this is all she'll get, Grace looks from him to her dad and back: “What happened to him? Did you arrest him?”

“Yeah,” Danny says, not quite meeting her eyes but looking at Steve instead. “He won't come back.”

“Good,” Grace mutters. She isn't certain if they've told her the entire truth and she wonders how anyone can kidnap Uncle Steve, who is something like a superhero, according to her dad, but at least they didn't treat her like a baby and didn't tell her anything.

“I'm glad you're okay,” she says to Steve, who gives her a fond smile.

 

Danny drives them to Kamekona's for lunch, and Steve makes a show of how much he enjoys getting out of the house.

“It's only been two days,” Danny says, rolling his eyes, but Steve ignores him: “Oh, sweet freedom!”

“You heard him, Monkey, don't let him out your sight,” Danny says, playing along.

Grace grins: “No problem. I can simply out-stroll him.” Due to his aching muscles and the still present dizziness, Steve admittedly walks at snail pace.

 

While they're eating, they talk about school and how Grace hopes to participate in an upcoming theatre project, and Steve enjoys the normalcy of it.

Later, Grace wants to go swimming, but Steve doesn't accompany her and Danny down to the beach; in fact, he's a little worn out by now, annoying as it is, and gladly stays on the lanai.

Danny, who does everything for his daughter, is actually in the water with her, and they are throwing a small ball back and forth. As Steve watches the two, it gives him a strange feeling of complacency, as if they actually were his family. Well, it certainly feels like it. He looks at Danny, who's laughing and relaxed, and feels a pang of longing. And he realizes, with startling clarity, that he doesn't only want Danny when he's upset or not feeling well, but that he wants Danny, full stop. His heart constricts at the notion, and he's trembling a little. Deep down, he's probably known this for a while, but it's still new, and it's still scary and wonderful at the same time. Yes, he loves Danny. _Loves_ him. What is he supposed to do?

 

That night, Danny lies awake on the couch and listens intently if he can hear anything from upstairs, but it remains silent. Steve was in a good place after Grace left, and he went to bed early; maybe he'll sleep till morning. Outwardly, he seems better, but the nightmares tell another story, after all, and he hasn't once complained about taking his meds. His first counseling session is scheduled for the following morning, which Danny is glad about.

Unexpectedly, his phone pings: it's a message from Steve. _You still awake?_

Danny texts back: _Yeah. Everything okay?_

The answer comes immediately: _Yeah. Can you come up?_

So Danny gets to his feet and pads up the stairs, a little puzzled as to what this is about.

Steve is sitting up, and just like yesterday, the lamp on his nightstand is still on.

“Hey,” Danny says softly. “You need anything?”

Steve looks pained for a moment: “Sit down?” But he doesn't reach for Danny, so that's strange. And he looks far too vulnerable right now, his face full of anxiety.

“What's wrong, Babe?” Danny is getting nervous.

Steve looks around the room for courage before he meets his gaze again: “What's the opposite of kryptonite?”

“What?” For a moment Danny wonders if Steve is confused again, or possibly running a fever, but Steve quickly continues: “Kryptonite is Superman's weakness, right?”

“I think so.”

Steve regards him: “To me, you're both. You're my kryptonite and also my... my safeguard. My shelter. It's like... like that cat in the box. Schrödinger's cat. Two things at once.”

Danny's gaze wanders over Steve's face; he's trembling all of a sudden and not sure where this is going. “What are you trying to say, Babe?”

Steve's expression softens at that, and from one second to the next, it's all there: love, and affection, and... longing, possibly.

“I love you, Danno,” Steve says softly. “I love you so much.”

Danny feels a rush of adrenaline sweeping through him, and for a moment, his vision blackens, because this is not the usual sentiment Steve so frequently throws around, this is the real deal. The butterflies are back, and how could they not be, considering?

Wordlessly, he eases himself onto the mattress until he's right in front of Steve, who lifts his hand and cups Danny's jaw, just as he did a few days ago, but this time, Danny does close his eyes ever so briefly before looking at his partner again, and now Steve is trembling is well: he wasn't sure, even now, how Danny'd react, because his judgement may not be the best around his partner.

But now Danny is smiling, just so with the corners of his mouth, and his gaze roams over Steve's face: “I'm glad you finally came to your senses, Babe,” he mutters with more bravado than his quivering heart feels.

Steve laughs quietly into their kiss.

 

It's the best thing, waking up together every morning. Well, as long as Steve isn't allowed to swim yet. For now, he doesn't miss it that much, because waking up with Danny is lovely and intriguing (and decidedly bad for injured ribs). Even after five years, there's so much Steve has yet to learn about the guy, and vice versa. And hell, he wants to. Wants to feel and taste and smell him, wants his warm weight against his own body in every possible way.

 The nightmares don't magically abate, but now Danny's there whenever Steve startles out of sleep, which helps tremendously: he just needs Danny's solid warmth to immediately know where he is, and often, that is enough for him to go back to sleep.

Sometimes, Danny is the one who wakes up with a strangled shout, who needs looking after, and Steve is just glad, after the first few times, that neither of them isn't alone anymore.

 

“Hey, Danno?” Steve asks, a few days later as they are lying in the hammock together. Getting Steve into it was a little difficult because of his ribs, and Danny has no idea how he'll get him out again. But for now, they are good, and it's perfect with the way they are kind of squashed together (the thing needs restringing).

“Yeah, Babe?”

“When did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you _loved_ me loved me.” He sounds almost shy.

Danny ponders this: “Probably for a long time, but I didn't allow it to surface until Colombia. And even then... I didn't know what to do with it. But when we entered that room and I saw you lying there- I thought you were dead, Steve. I think that triggered it.” Involuntarily, he shudders, turning his head towards Steve until their faces meet; Steve nuzzles him. “I'm sorry,” he mutters. Danny kisses him: “When are you gonna stop apologizing?”

“Sorry,” Steve kisses back, grinning. Gently, Danny bites him, and Steve makes a face at him; they goof around until Steve's ribs start to protest.

“I love you,” he murmurs, once he's got his breath back.

“I love you too,” Danny replies softly.

“By the way: there'll possibly be singing in the shower later.”

“Huh. We'll see about that.”

“Yes, we will.”

Smiling, Steve closes his eyes.

 

The End

 


End file.
